Quarterly Report
I saw a quarter on the floor at work today. Should I pick it up, or walk away?
Time was, when a quarter meant a lot to me – in another place, “back in the day.”
As a child of the 50’s, with a quarter in hand, to the bus stop I’d run with great adventures planned.
One nickel for the bus (roundtrip, I might add) and then off to the movies at the RKO Grand.
Four nickels for admission with buttered popcorn to taste.
Lowell Thomas, the Lone Ranger, and creatures from space.
Although I picked up that orphaned quarter with very little thought, the memories it brought me could never be bought.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.